


I Don't Want You to Not Be My Husband

by Remus_la_swearwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Divorce, Happy Ending, Lily and James are dead and it's taking it's toll on Remus and Sirius' marriage, M/M, Marauders, Moomy and Dadfoot, Remus And Sirius Are Married, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, peter is a rat as usual, regulus is in there?, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remus_la_swearwolf/pseuds/Remus_la_swearwolf
Summary: Sirius knows that he's the one to blame, just as well as Remus does. He watches the pen lift and drop, arcing smoothly down towards the paper . . ."Stop." The word spills from Sirius' lips, louder than he'd intended for it to, and he realises he's standing up.Remus blinks, and looks up at him. "Stop?" he asks quizically. "You're the one who asked for this. Isn't this what you wanted?"Sirius' chest is heaving, and he clutches onto the table. "I don't know," he says, panicking.Remus sets the pen down. "You don't know?" he repeats scathingly.He's hurt, and Sirius knows he has every right to be."I don't want you to not be my husband." He forces the words out, even though they tear at him inside."You haven't been a very good husband, lately," Remus says at last, and Sirius is horrified to see tears glistening around his lashes.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 246





	I Don't Want You to Not Be My Husband

Sirius growls and fumbles with his keys in the lock, trying to force them into the jammed lock. This shitty flat isn't his home, and the neighbours who surround him aren't his family. 

Sirius wrenches the key to the side. The door bursts open, finally, but the key is crooked when he pulls it out. When he tries, it won't bend back. He stares at the defiant piece of metal in his palm, and tosses it carelessly on the wobbling table under the chipped mirror. He'll have to get the key fixed.

It's dark outside, and the flat is cold and empty. He's exhausted, after the day he's had, and he'd like nothing more than to collapse into bed and forget himself in sleep, but his bed is cold and empty, and the springs dig into his skin through the worn padding. Undoubtedly, the couple upstairs are going to have loud sex the second that Sirius crawls under the thin covers, so he decides to camp on the grimy sofa without changing out of his clothes, like he's been doing since before he even moved out. 

He closes his aching eyes with a weary sigh, and thinks that if he has to spend one more hour in that courtroom, listening to all his flaws and faults being bared before the eyes of some unsympathetic judge who'd heard it all before a thousand times, he'd go mad.

He knows he's the one who's messed up, and he's the one whose fault it is that they were in this mess in the first place, but that doesn't make hearing it any easier for him. He's always had a selfish streak when it came to drowning in his feelings and self-pity.

The flashing light of a street lamp outside burns through his eyelids, and he groans and turns his face away, wishing he could hide from all of his problems so easily. Remus isn't the only one he's let down.

***

"Moony, why's Padfoot gone?"

Remus looks at the child in front of him, and tries to crush down the overwhelming guilt and pain that wells up within him. He's already lost his parents once, and Remus can't bear to put him through it all again. He swallows back the swelling lump in his throat, and blinks rapidly until his eyes stop stinging. For Harry's sake.

Harry continues to stare up at him with big green eyes, and once again, Remus is forcefully reminded of Lily. He wonders how things might have been if she and James were still here. Perhaps if Peter hadn't lied that night, about Regulus and Remus, Sirius wouldn't have stormed off on his motorcycle, and James and Lily wouldn't have crashed searching for him, knowing how impetuous and rash Sirius could be. Sirius' downfall was always going to be how self-destructive he was.

Remus clears his throat, and wets his dry lips. He doesn't know what to tell the boy. "Uncle Padfoot -- Sirius -- he's-- he's going through a lot. He can't be here right now, but he still loves you very much," he says, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper. 

"Will he ever be back?" Harry asks, eyes full of hurt. It must be like like losing his parents, all over again, and Remus' heart aches.

He can't tell this boy that it's over between him and Sirius, and that Harry won't ever have his Uncle Moony and Padfoot together again. He can't tell Harry that his other Godfather is a reckless, imploding disaster, that this is what's finally set the dynamite inside of him off, and that it isn't good for Harry or Remus to have him around. He can't tell Harry that it hurts Sirius every time he looks at him, and that the grief and guilt stab him in the heart like a knife every time he looks up and meets Lily's eyes in James' face, living on in their son. It hurts Sirius to be around Harry, and it isn't Harry's fault, but Sirius can't stand it, and both Harry and Remus have suffered for it.

"I dunno, Harry," Remus answers for the fourteenth time in seven days. "I dunno." 

***

The form on the table in front of him is mocking him. Sirius is sure of it. He stares at the swimming letters and numbers, and growls, shoving a hand up in his hair. He reaches for the penpot he's kept (a habit picked up from Remus) and knocks it over, so that all the leaky and dried-up biros are scattered across the table. He reaches for the nearest one, and carves his signature onto the paper, not caring anymore about what the document signifies. 

Or at least that's what he tells himself. 

He crumples the paper up and shoves it into the pocket of his leather jacket, and grabs his keys, not bothering to lock the flat up after he leaves. The key probably wouldn't work anyway. 

The drive is long, seeing as he's moved across town, but he needs this. The purr of the motorcycle beneath him, and the wind whipping at the long, uncut strands of his hair make him feel alive in a way that he hasn't felt for a while. Despite how fast he's moving, even in the muddle and jam of central London, the weight of the form in his jacket feels like it's dragging him down.

Sirius forces all thoughts of what had been and what could have been as he approaches the little house on the hill, with the perfect lawn and picket-fence he's secretly yearned for all his life. This is the moment all the dreams he had growing up die for sure; the first moment that he's truly been on his own since he was eleven, and James had burst in with his bright eyes and raucous laughter, Remus following, and together they'd chased the dark out of Sirius.

His motorcycle is parked down the road, no longer welcome on the garden path or by the garage where Sirius used to waste long afternoons, tinkering with his bike and showing a wide-eyed Harry the different bike parts he'd brought home to mend. He steels himself for Remus' accusatory stare, or even worse, indifference in his eyes as he takes in the miserable state Sirius is in now. And worst of all, he doesn't know how he'll handle Harry's questions and his eyes, which only serve to remind Sirius of just how many of his loved ones he's let down.

Each step down the garden path lasts an eternity, and the paper in his pocket is a rock. He finally musters up the courage to knock weakly upon the door, hesitating before forcing himself to get on with it and do it.

It takes a minute, but soon the door swings open, and a familiar smell Sirius has missed for so long washes over him, and Remus is standing there, flour on his cheek, and his eyes and hair as honey-like as the first time Sirius had been fortunate enough to have laid eyes on him. Sirius tries to speak, but his mouth moves uselessly and the words swell in his throat and stick like bile, so he swallows them down.

Remus' expression is carefully neutral, and his eyes are guarded, but Sirius knows him well enough to recognise the pain behind them. He tears his own eyes away, unable to acknowledge it for one second longer. Sirius fumbles around in his jacket and grasps at the sheet of paper tucked away in there, holding it out clumsily to Remus, refusing to look at him all the while.

Remus stares down at the piece of paper emotionlessly, and moves his gaze to Sirius' face. "Come in," he says flatly, moving aside to allow Sirius in.

Sirius follows him reluctantly down the hall to the kitchen without looking around, afraid he'll see an ancient relic or a photograph Remus had forgotten to take down, and that the tears he's been biting back will escape.

He takes a seat at the table, as does Remus, and busies himself with tracing the swirling patterns on the wood. Neither of them say a word, but he can feel Remus' eyes on his face. Disappointed, maybe. Or perhaps he's ashamed of what a coward Sirius is, just like Sirius is himself.

"The document?" Remus asks, but he isn't asking really.

Sirius slides it across the table, and Remus straightens it out, and reaches for his pen-holder, his mouth tightening disapprovingly at the messy scrawl Sirius has provided instead of a signature. "I can barely read this."

Sirius shrugs. "Yeah, well."

Remus raises his eyebrows, but doesn't respond, shaking the ink pen out. "It'll be over, once we sign this paper," he says. "Forever."

"I know. That's why I've already signed it," Sirius responds bitingly. His nails bite into the wood of the table, trying to get through to the soft skin of his palms. His eyes burn, and he tries not to think of how handsome Remus looked that day, with his golden hair, and his golden eyes, and his golden heart, surrounded by friends and family, and his eyes full of nothing but love and adoration for Sirius, love and adoration Sirius didn't deserve.

Remus purses his lips and picks up the pen with firmer fingers.

"I'm sorry," Sirius says, faster than he can stop himself.

Remus' hands freeze, and he looks up in Sirius in disbelief. " _What?_ "

"I'm sorry," repeats Sirius. "I shouldn't have said that. It was rude of me."

Remus nods. "Yes, well. It's -- it's all right." His eyes return to the paper, and he reads over it one last time, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles Sirius has put in it. He smiles, soft and bittersweet, and it almost stops Sirius' heart to see. "Wonder how it all happened. Us. This."

Sirius coughs, and subtly brushes an eyelash away from his eye.

"Guess we just fell apart," Remus shrugs, still smiling that awful smile. "I mean, you see it happening, but I couldn't help but think it would never happen with us."

"Me -- me too," Sirius croaks, feeling a thousand years old. His voice won't stop cracking, and he hates himself for it.

"For a while, I thought we were going to make it through. After James and Lily died. Even if it was just for Harry. I suppose I was wrong." He smiles at Sirius again, a sad thing that lifts the corner of his mouth half-heartedly, and Sirius wonders how long it's been since Remus last smiled properly.

"And Harry?" asks Sirius, a little more life in his voice. "How is he?"

"He's sleeping," Remus answers quickly. "I wasn't -- I wasn't sure how good it would be for him to see you. To see us like this."

"You're probably right," rasps Sirius. He wishes he could be the perfect Godfather to Harry, the parent that Harry deserves, but he isn't, and he hates himself for it. He feels guilty for feeling relieved that he won't have to see Harry, and he knows Remus can see it.

"He misses you a lot, you know. Won't stop asking about you." 

Sirius can hear the bitterness in Remus' laugh. "I'm sorry," he repeats dumbly, for the third time.

"Don't be," says Remus briskly, before seizing the pen and moving it towards the paper in earnest this time. "Both of us played our part in this."

That isn't true. Sirius knows that he's the one to blame, just as well as Remus does. He watches the pen lift and drop, arcing smoothly down towards the paper . . .

"Stop." The word spills from Sirius' lips, louder than he'd intended for it to, and he realises he's standing up.

Remus blinks, and looks up at him. "Stop?" he asks quizically. "You're the one who asked for this. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Sirius' chest is heaving, and he clutches onto the table. "I don't know," he says, panicking.

Remus sets the pen down. "You don't know?" he repeats scathingly.

He's hurt, and Sirius knows he has every right to be.

"I don't want you to not be my husband." He forces the words out, even though they tear at him inside.

"You haven't been a very good husband, lately," Remus says at last, and Sirius is horrified to see tears glistening around his lashes.

"I know. And I haven't been a good father to Harry, either. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry. And I can't promise you I'll fix myself and make it all better right away, because I can't. But I'm still so in love with you, and being away from you is the worst thing I've done to myself, ever. And I've done some pretty fucked up shit." He chokes a weak laugh out, and reaches up a hand to brush away the tears that are already falling from his eyes. He sits back down.

Remus hasn't said anything for the past minute, but the tears by his lashes have begun to fall from his honey-coloured eyes.

"Don't," says Sirius harshly, once he's managed to wipe the dampness away from his own eyes. "Don't cry over me. I don't deserve it."

His voice cracks as he says it, and his throat aches like it never has before, and the shame is overwhelming, so he hides his face in his palm, and tries to look anywhere but Moony's face.

Remus makes no move to stem the tears that flow from his eyes, as he continues to stare at him, golden eyes on washed-out grey. He picks up the awful paper, and crumples it in his hand like Sirius has wanted to do since he first printed the form out, and he tosses it to the floor.

He reaches across the table, and takes Sirius' free hand. "Maybe we don't sign it just yet," he suggests.

"Judge'll be bloody annoyed," Sirius mumbles into his hand, before moving it to that he can look at Remus properly.

Remus smiles, and rubs his thumb gently across Sirius' hand in his. "I know. But I think we'll be okay."


End file.
